


Dark Theater

by helens78, Telesilla



Series: Train Wreck [5]
Category: Establishment RPF
Genre: Angst, M/M, The Establishment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-08-21
Updated: 2006-08-21
Packaged: 2017-10-05 18:34:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/44795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/helens78/pseuds/helens78, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Telesilla/pseuds/Telesilla
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sean's been watching <i>Phantom Menace</i> near the end of his contract with Liam.  Angst ensues.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dark Theater

**Author's Note:**

> This was written by Helens without any help from Telesilla.

I've lost count of how many times I've seen this fucking movie so far. It's not even _that_ good, though you have to give it some credit for being _Star Wars_. That's not what keeps me coming back, though.

Liam.

He took my breath away when I first saw him. When I first _heard_ him. That calm, clear voice coming out of my boy's lips, and it was all I could do not to stand up and head out to the lobby so I could ring him and tell him how fucking proud I was of him.

I should have done that. I should have made the call then, instead of waiting until I got home. He was out. Of course he was out; how many premieres has he been to now? More than I'll be going to in the rest of my career, I suspect. Fucking _Star Wars_. So goddamned proud of him. But it's meant we've been playing phone tag ever since. He's in when I'm out. He's in different time zones every time I turn around. And I'm stuck here shooting _Dangerous_, and then who knows what comes next?

Yeah, and that's my problem. I do know what comes next. I know we're coming to a close, because our contract's almost up. Maybe we could extend it another three months, maybe another six. I suppose it's possible he's not tired of me yet. But then what happens if we do? I don't think he'd be happy on the bottom for the rest of our time together, and I'm not even ready to think about switching with him. Bloody stupid of me, because he and I both know it's about Pierce. Fucking Pierce. It's been more than two years, for Christ's sake, and you'd think I could give him up. You'd think I'd bloody well _want_ to push him out of my life, get Liam up over me and make me forget about him. I just... can't do that. Not yet.

It's really about selfishness, isn't it? I'm a fucking selfish bastard. I don't want to be on my knees for Liam because I know it'd mean something, and that fucking terrifies me. I don't think he realizes, don't think Liam's caught on, but if I were kneeling for him he'd see it in my eyes. I wouldn't be able to hide a goddamned thing for him. Wouldn't be able to hide that I love him.

Christ, I don't know. Maybe he knows already. He sure as fuck hasn't said anything about it, which I'm glad for. Sometimes I want to give him the words so badly they feel like a sharp lack in the center of my chest, a place where I'm not whole and won't be until I can say _I love you, Liam Neeson._ But then I realize how much worse it would be, saying them. How very much fucking worse.

He wouldn't believe me, of course. He thinks I'm still in love with Pierce -- and he's right. He'd want more from me than I could give him. He'd want to give me more than I'm ready to take -- he already does, I just haven't let him. He's so busy now, and it's only getting worse. I'm going to be busy later on, might be going out of the country for work again after I'm done with _Dangerous_. Yeah, I've got a million fucking excuses why I haven't told him. It's all the same thing at its heart.

I'm afraid of loving him. Things with me never last. I'm not the sort of person for whom _forever_ is an option.

After the movie's over, I head back home, going straight for my study and my computer. I owe Liam an email -- owe him more like three. And I probably ought to be calling him instead of sending a goddamned email anyway. And I'm not going to do either. Fucking coward.

I spend some time out on my back porch, smoking, watching silver clouds drift past.

We're coming to a close anyway. I know it. He knows it. All I have to do is let it happen.

_Christ_, fucking stop this, Bean. Get inside the goddamned house and _pick up the fucking phone._ Pick up the fucking phone, tell him how goddamned proud you are, how much you fucking care for him, that you want to love him and you're afraid of fucking letting yourself--

I finish my cigarette, let it burn down to the filter. I can't. Or maybe I could, but I won't, and it amounts to the same thing.

It's gotten cool out, so it's time to go back in. I turn the computer off as I pass by the study, unplug the phone once I'm in the bedroom. Maybe he'll call and I'll miss it. I can't talk to him right now. I'd owe him another phone call. We can add it to the tally of all the other things I owe him and haven't delivered on.

I try to sleep for a while, but it's no use. My thoughts are full of him. Liam, and how that half-smile of his brightens my day. The way he's never quite behaved under me, though Christ knows he tries and I can see how much effort he makes doing it. How much I love him for that, and how much I want him to be exactly what he is.

...damn it.

There's a sketchbook in the second drawer of my nightstand, full of images of Liam. There are so many pictures I've drawn that don't come close to capturing how I feel about him. This time it's Liam in profile. The broken nose I'm so goddamned fond of, and which he can never resist making a self-effacing comment about. Liam's chin resting in his hand -- God, but I love Liam's hands. Liam's collar. The way his hair falls in messy little waves when I've been toying with it for a while.

There are dozens of sketches of Liam in this book. He's never going to fucking see them, not if I can help it. The way Liam looks through my eyes -- yeah, it'd be fucking obvious then, even if I never get the words out.

I put the sketchbook away and go to sleep, alone and cold, wishing I could do more than ache for him. In the morning, I have flashes of memory of my dreams -- the strength in Liam's shoulders and the way it feels to pin him to the ground -- and I don't wake up feeling rested at all.

**Author's Note:**

> _This one was inspired over winter holiday, when I was watching Phantom Menace and Sean curled up into a little ball on my shoulder and got depressed. With love to [](http://telesilla.livejournal.com/profile)[**telesilla**](http://telesilla.livejournal.com/) for having such a guy-like angsty compelling museboy, and love to [](http://dragonkal.livejournal.com/profile)[**dragonkal**](http://dragonkal.livejournal.com/) for the big suggestion that wrangled this piece into shape._


End file.
